


You're Welcome

by ullfloattoo



Category: Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 02:31:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6781792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ullfloattoo/pseuds/ullfloattoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raphael really isn't sentimental.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> someone gave me this loooooovely prompt about Raphael giving simon his class ring and this is what came out of it

 

Raphael really isn't sentimental.

 

He’s known Simon for a while, okay maybe a year, but a year is a long time for a once mundane still, he figures. They’re a _thing_. They have heated makeout sessions, and bicker like old men but at the end of the day, he can't bring himself to hate him.

 

Simon is different. Simon has a mop of curly dark hair and thick brimmed glasses that frame his geeky face. That lopsided grin, the boy next door style, his speech, a unique yet boyish tone, god don’t even get him started on that.

 

He walked into Simon’s room, remembering the moment they met fondly, he had crossed his arms and clenched his jaw tight while scanning the young boy with hidden astonishment and affection. He then placed the ring on the unmade bed, patting it and walking away after twisting it on his own thumb for fifteen minutes.

 

An hour later, he watches him from across the hall emerge into his bedroom, then quickly walk back out, carrying the heavy jewelry in his palm, ‘I think you might have forgotten this.”

 

Raphael pauses the frame, did he ever go into detail about the fledgling’s body? Lanky and thin, he slouches against the pure white doorframe of Raphael’s own room. With a wave of his hand, he beckons him into the room with downcast eyes, suddenly embarrassed.

 

And woah, this is definitely new for Simon, he glides into the dark cave, a smile plastered on his  face because he’s never actually been _allowed_ into Raphael’s room before, ever, even the time that Raphael asked him if he wanted to f- ”Simon?”

 

Simon is snapped out of the trance, he reverts his gaze from somewhere in the intimidating pit that is Raphael’s room to his face, “Yeah?”

 

“I actually want you to keep it,” Raphael scratches the back of his neck, “It suits you.”

 

That most definitely is false information, and Simon laughs and that, scrunches his nose up tight. He examines the ring, it fits a little loose on his thumb, but stops at the knuckle. It is pure gold, thick and antique, having a huge blood red oval jewel in the middle, fitting, he thinks. It doesn't really go with the whole ‘Jewish Momma’s boy who plays Garageband until 3 am, but could never hurt a fly’ vibe, “This was your class ring right?” He rubbed the pad of his thumb against the dark engraving of some New York College he wasn't aware of.

 

“Yeah,” he shrugged.

 

“Class of 1953, classy,” Simon nodded his head in approval, while his insides churned, in a history class when he was around the age of thirteen, he remembered reading about rings like this, they were extremely sentimental and valuable. “Is this the kind of thing totally not boyfriends do?” Simon wonders aloud.

 

Raphael brings himself to look up from the hardwood floor and narrows his eyes accusingly, “don’t get your hopes up, kid, it's not a proposal or anything.”

 

And Simon kind of looks at him with his head tilted like a puppy examining Raphael sitting on the neatly made bed, in his suit, and shakes his head. Raphael sighs and slaps his thighs before getting up and brushing past Simon, “well, I gotta go.”

 

“Wait,” Simon’s fingers barely graze his black jacket and still, Raphael comes to a complete stop.

 

“Listen, I don't have time for your games. I have stuff to do you know, being the-” Simon cuts him off by tugging him close to his body, balancing on his sock covered tippy toes and leaves him a kiss to light, it feels like a feather grazed him over his cheek. But it's so full of affection, it doesn't fail to make Raphael blush.

  
“Thank you,” he whispers against Raphael's ear barely audible in the immense room, it sounds like a crack in the wind.

 

What Raphael grumbles back really isn't decipherable, but Simon will take it.


End file.
